


How Close Were You to Him?

by sm0ke



Series: If You Could Just Apply Yourself [1]
Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Bottom Jesse Pinkman, Frottage, Grabbing, Gratuitous Smut, Gus Fring (Mention), Hitting, Jealous Walter White, Jealousy, M/M, PWP, Pain, Porn With Plot, Problem Dog, Prostate Massage, Protective Walter White, Shameless Smut, Smut, Walter Being an Asshole, Walter White Being an Asshole, paint, smacking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sm0ke/pseuds/sm0ke
Summary: Based on the episode Problem Dog (Season 4, Episode 7) but there aren’t any plot spoilers just in case anyone has just started watching. Jesse is painting over the graffiti on his walls and Walt is pissed off about something probably.
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman & Walter White, Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Series: If You Could Just Apply Yourself [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773553
Comments: 20
Kudos: 135





	How Close Were You to Him?

**Author's Note:**

> i know this fanbase isn’t really active anymore but i just started watching the series and really wanted to write something for this scene because i haven’t seen anything. i’m really sorry for any capitalisation errors because i’m gay so i have autocapitalisation off. also my spelling is standard for the uk and stuff.

Jesse could still faintly taste the mint of his toothpaste in his mouth when the Pontiac pulled into his driveway. He had barely started painting, deciding to look busy so that he didn’t have to be alone with Mr White for too long, not after what had already happened with them.

“Yeah, I saw him,” Jesse turned back to the wall he was painting, pretending to care about streaking or something.  
“And you tell Saul before you tell me?” His tone was stern, no different than usual, so he dismissed it.  
“Look, he’s my lawyer - same as yours,” he brushed it off but it came out wrong so he explained, “Every time I go over there Saul hassles me about Mike. He’s still scared the dude’s gonna come break his legs so I give him the latest,”  
“What happened exactly?” Mr White asked and that definitely sounded like he was annoyed but Jesse wasn’t sure why.  
“I was at a diner with Mike and he just shows up. They send me outside and the two of them talk. That’s it,”  
“So this is, like, a... regular thing?”  
Jesse turned on the ladder to face him. He still didn’t know what any of this was about or if he even wanted to know.  
“How close were you to him?” Mr White asked him.  
“Close. Closer than you and me right now,” Jesse fumbled over his words a little, the intensity of the question pretty much flooring him for a good minute.  
The following silence was so deafening that he found that he couldn’t look at Mr White anymore, so he turned to look into the paint balanced on the step ladder with him. Maybe there were some answers in there.  
“Did he speak to you?” Broke the silence. It felt like it had been 10 minutes since anyone spoke but it must’ve only been about 5 seconds. Although did it count as silence if all he could hear was Mr White just _thinking_?  
“It was- it was over in 10 seconds,” He felt the need to explain himself, like he’d done something wrong.  
“Would you just answer,” He was insistent.  
“He said he sees things in people,”  
“What things? What people?” His tone was sharp, like he was spitting at him.  
“Me. He said he sees something in me,” Jesse grew exasperated and turned back to the wall, rolling the roller over a spot he’d already painted.

Another one of those dragged out silences followed where the cogs in Mr White’s brain started to whir as he put things together, calculated his next words like they were playing chess or something instead of having a normal conversation. He remembered that he had a teacher that would snap at him for ‘thinking too loudly’ and wondered if it sounded anything like this. In all that thinking that both of them had been doing, neither of them could find the right thing to say. Of all times this was the one time his big mouth couldn’t even come out with something useful- or even un-useful - anything at all would have been good.

“Did he- did he touch you?”  
The question stopped his train of thought so abruptly he almost forgot to breathe. And the following, instinctive “No.” sounded almost defensive.   
“No?” Even though Mr White’s tone was even, and his stare was level, there was something so fucking ferocious about it Jesse had to put down the roller to try to get his hands to stop shaking.  
“No, he didn’t,” Jesse tried again, trying so hard to calm his voice that it sounded as shaky as the rest of him felt.

He wasn’t a pussy or anything, he’d been shouted at and beat up enough in his life that he was pretty resistant to anything. The thing was, he knew Mr White was a dangerous man and he knew that he was no exception to that danger - if Mr White decided to fuck him up, he would get fucked up. And the worst thing is, he would let it happen. That’s the thing with these smart guys doing crime, they know exactly how to frighten people without having to lay a finger on them.

At least Mr White seemed more satisfied with his answer the second time. Jesse suddenly felt unsafe on the ladder and got down, almost backing into the wall he had just painted.   
“Why didn’t you tell me?”  
Jesse tried to say “Excuse me?” but it didn’t come out of his mouth at all.  
”Why didn’t you tell me about Gus?” He clarified.  
”I was like.” Jesse rubbed a hand over his face in frustration “I was scared,” and it was the honest-to-god truth.  
”Of him?”  
Jesse shook his head.  
”Of me?”  
Jesse started counting the paint spots on his shoes.  
”Look at me,”  
...4...5...6...7  
”Look at me, Jesse,”  
...12...13...14...15  
”Fucking look at me,” and it was harsh enough that it caused Jesse’s head to snap up, immediately registering how much closer they were than 15 paint spots ago. He looked back down again, the severity of the eye contact making him feel like he needed to break for air. Before he could consider even trying to say something, he felt his head being wrenched back up by the chin, the grip on it so tight that he couldn’t look anywhere but Mr White’s face. He couldn’t remember if his face had always been this small or Mr White’s hands had always been this big. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He backed away slightly, only to collide with the wet wall behind him.

”Are you scared of me?”

Every time he tried to look away the grip on his face only grew tighter. How in the fuck was he supposed to explain that Mr White fucking terrified him and at the same time made him feel safe. Sometimes he was so fucking scary that Jesse didn’t even recognise him and sometimes he was just dangerous enough that Jesse felt like he had live wires where his veins used to be. Like he was high off his ass even after being sober for ages. Mr White made him feel fucking alive with the adrenaline of being near him and what that meant. But he couldn’t say any of that, obviously; not only because it would sound insane but whenever he tried to say anything it always came out completely wrong anyway. In one sharp movement, he loosened the grip from his jaw and their mouths collided. Maybe this way Mr White could feel the electricity too. He didn’t really know if electricity was a chemistry thing or not but he could guarantee that Mr White knew more about it than him and maybe then someone smarter than him could explain what in the hell he was feeling. It was at that point he realised that he hadn’t thought any of this through, and pulled away quickly, as if Mr White hadn’t noticed or something equally stupid. He immediately felt the absence of the beard scrubbing against his cheeks and chin and it took more self control than he knew he had, to not just kiss him again.

Although Jesse couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact again, he could still hear the machinery, where Mr White’s brain should be, just... calculating.

Two fingers tipped his head up again, much less forcefully but Jesse was far more responsive to it anyway. Mr White’s thumb ghosted along Jesse’s bottom lip, making him dart his tongue out to wet it, licking Mr White’s thumb by accident as he did so. Before he could apologise, Mr White asked him “Is this one of those things we don’t need to talk about?” and Jesse nodded. 

He seemed to deem this response good enough because somehow they were kissing again. This time, Mr White had one hand tipping his chin upwards and the other cradling the back of his head. Jesse briefly thought about how he would have to repaint this wall but he didn’t think about it for long enough for it to be important. His hands were gripping tighter and tighter into Mr White’s stupid fucking jacket. There was something going on between their tongues that Jesse was still trying to understand when he pulled away. 

“Are you scared of me?” Mr White panted into the space between them.  
”I don’t know,” Jesse panted, suddenly very aware of where the blood in his body had gone. 

Mr White seemed to take this as some sort of go ahead to throw Jesse against the wall with twice as much force as before, causing his head to hit off the wall, and muffle his “What the hell, man?” with another kiss. This time the pressure on his lips could’ve been hard enough to bruise and there was a fucking thigh pressing against his crotch - which would have been relatively pleasant if it wasn’t so damn hard against him. It was painful as hell but there was no way in hell he was asking him to stop - the pain kind of made it better, in a way, it became pleasant after a while. He rocked forwards onto Mr White’s leg experimentally. He didn’t stop him. So he did it again. And again. And over and over until he was suppressing noises that so desperately wanted to claw their way out of his throat. Somewhere in the mist of his libido-fuelled mind, he decided that he would like this better if they were wearing far fewer clothes. His hands trailed down Mr White’s torso to the front of his slacks, where he fidgeted with the button on them, waiting to be given permission. When nothing happened, he tugged harder, trying to get an answer. The answer he got was Mr White grabbing his wrists and forcing them to either side of his head with the same bruising force that he used to grab his face. Either way, Jesse was still fucking his mind out on Mr White’s leg, in short bursts because there was practically no give between the wall behind him and the thigh in front of him, but enough that he could feel at least some relief from the tightness that was growing in his stomach. All he could feel now was everything getting faster: his hip movements, their kissing, time itself. And oh fucking shit because there were low noises coming out of his mouth now and he was definitely going to come, which would have been the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done in his life. Thankfully the great Walter White decided that was the moment to let go, letting Jesse helplessly and aimlessly buck into the air. 

”Get out of those clothes” and it was definitely an instruction, not a request. Jesse almost missed those baggy ass pants he used to wear because being stared at with this much of a raging boner is the kind of thing that makes someone really uncomfortable. He peeled off his white t-shirt first, drenched in sweat and paint from where he was pushed against the wall. He unbuttoned his jeans, opting for speed, as if the faster he did it, the less he would have to think about it - and he was right to a degree. He was stood in front of Mr White, who hadn’t so much as taken off his jacket, stripped down to his boxers with the worst hard-on of his life.  
”Are you scared of me?” He asked again, this time calmer, more collected.  
”I don’t know,” Jesse replied in the same way he had before, noticing that Mr White’s slacks looked much tighter than usual and feeling a little better about himself.  
Mr White seemed to consider this for a moment and motioned for Jesse to strip the rest of the way down. He didn’t know why it made him so nervous - it wasn’t like he had like body issues or anything. And he definitely wasn’t some virgin. Using his thumbs, he tugged his boxers down to his ankles, where he kicked them off. Suddenly he had no idea where to put his hands. Where had his hands even been before? Resting them at his sides seemed unnatural but crossing them seemed defensive and- his thought process was interrupted by a calloused hand grazing his shoulder blades, tracing some sort of hieroglyphics onto his back. Mr White leaned into him from behind so that they were almost spooning standing up and Jesse could feel his crotch pressing against his ass. It eventually occurred to him that this might be going - _there_ but then there was a mouth sucking insistently on his neck and it didn’t seem so bad anymore. It didn’t help that he was this hard - he was about to come like a minute ago, making every touch go straight to his dick, twisting his guts up more and more each time. 

“Have you done this before?” Mr White asked him, trailing his fingers down Jesse’s spine - almost as if he were examining him for quality.  
“Been naked in front of you? No, I haven’t?” He replied before even thinking about it, earning a sharp smack across the hip, which went straight to his cock as well, making him whimper just a little. He tried to cover it with a cough. It didn’t work.   
“You know what I mean - have you done this before?”  
”I uh yeah,” Jesse responded, but it was a blatant lie. He didn’t know why he lied, maybe it was so that whatever was happening didn’t stop, maybe it was because he didn’t want to be embarrassed. He felt the look of disbelief burning into the back of his neck before he felt the handprint burning into his asscheek. This time it was a yelp.   
“Fine, no, I haven’t,”   
“Good,” and he seemed genuinely pleased.  
Maybe it was because of this twisted idea he had that Jesse somehow belonged to him - that he owed him something. Realistically, Jesse owed him his life, there was no doubt about that, but his body? He wasn’t sure.

Mr White guided him to the coffee table and bent him over it, the sudden cold against Jesse’s hot skin sending a jolt through him. He had only his palms pressed against the cool glass at first but Mr White knocked him onto his elbows.   
“Are you scared of me?”   
“I don’t know,” he replied out of habit but it was verging on a yes.   
Mr White hummed at this answer, running his rough hands over Jesse’s ass. All of his muscles were twitching with the need to come and as Mr White circled the ring of muscle around his hole, he had to bite his lip to keep from letting go.   
“Jesse d-“  
But he’d anticipated the question. ”Nightstand, second drawer,”  
“Stay put,”  
It sounded forceful enough that Jesse didn’t even think of moving, even though his arms were shaking as he leaned against them. 

Once there were hands on his body again he shivered a little less, enjoying the sensation. He heard the cap of the lube pop and the wet sound if it. He chewed on his bottom lip as finally- finally Mr White pushed a single finger in. It was - strange? Mr White was waiting for him to adjust.   
“Um yeah, keep going,” Jesse told him.  
But he didn’t pull his finger out like Jesse expected, he pushed it further in and twisted it until he hit something that made Jesse’s brain melt and drip out of his ears. His arms gave way so that most of him was flat against the table and his ass was in the air. The sound he made was so loud that he couldn’t even try to ignore it and when Mr White just kept pressing against it, he coaxed more and more sounds out of him. At this point he was leaking precome and every gasp and moan that came out of his mouth condensed against the glass. He was panting like crazy and he was pretty sure he’d drawn blood from his lower lip. It was barely minutes before he was coming all over himself, cursing like hell. It was like no fucking orgasm he’d ever had before. It was like he had flatlined and come back to life and maybe he fucking had.

It took him a while to come down, sliding off the table and onto his knees where he sat on the floor, learning how to breathe again.  
”Fuck I-“  
”You did well, I’m proud of you,”  
”Can I- Did you want me to...” Jesse struggled to find the right words but pressed his palm into Mr White’s thigh anyway, hoping he would get the hint.  
”Another time,”  
It sounded so casual in contrast to what they had just done.  
”I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He said, placing a hand on Jesse’s head, just for a moment and trailing it down the side of his face. It was so soft, almost comforting.

Was Jesse scared of him? Fuck yeah he was. The way he could flip between calculating and cold to soft and warm or from angry and punishing to almost gentle. It didn’t make sense to him. And the amount of power and control Mr White had over him. He could make him strip naked and finger him until he came all over himself with just a few words. Who wouldn’t be fucking scared of him? But he would have done it all again in a heartbeat. At least as long as he didn’t have to repaint his wall and scrub paint off himself again.

**Author's Note:**

> i doubt this will be seen by many people but i’m probably going to make it into a series for my own entertainment.


End file.
